


What Dreams May Come (And Oh, Do They Come)

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Bratting, Choking, M/M, Wings, incubus au, multiple limbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Antiseptic is a brat. Mark deals with it.





	What Dreams May Come (And Oh, Do They Come)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel_in_ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/gifts).



> Happy (late, oops) birthday, Angel! <3

In the land between dreams and sleep, Mark walked.

It was a bit more complicated than that, because nothing is ever really that simple.

He wasn't _exactly_ walking, although his legs were moving, his wings swaying with every step he took.

But it was quiet here, and he liked seeing the dreams of the people in the other worlds.

They were all suitably weird.

Jack was sleeping off his latest glut of angel essence, and Mark smiled a bit in spite of himself.

Jack was beginning to gain some weight.

It was fucking adorable.

But even angels occasionally feel the need to roam. 

Maybe it was because he now held a bit of Jack's soul.

Or maybe that was what led to his... encounter.

One minute he was wandering around a forest glen, the next he was in a dark cave, and there was something green and blue floating in front of him.

It was cackling.

There were very sharp teeth, and mouth like a knife wound, and then an actual knife wound, and Mark was reminded of that movie that Jack had shown him, the one with the cat that appeared as a smile first, then as the rest of itself.

"You've walked into my trap, angel," said Antiseptic, and he came out of the shadows, more or less himself, although there were wisps of shadow still clinging to him like smoke.

"Trap," Mark said flatly, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Anti was up to his usual bullshit, it seemed.

He looked less like Jack than he had before - he was... pointier, for lack of a better way of putting it. 

His fingers looked sharper, his face was leaner.

His teeth were a lot more visible now, catching the nonexistent light, and they were very sharp.

"I've caught you," said Anti, and he stepped even closer, until Mark could smell the stale dark chocolate of his darkness, his face right in Mark's. 

He grabbed Mark's wrist.

That wouldn't do.

Mark... changed. 

He could do that, in this kind of place - he could change what everything around him was, while he was in the same place, or he could change himself.

Regardless, they were on a beach now, and Anti was looking nervous.

"How'd you do this?"

"You can't set a trap for me in dreams," Mark said, as if he was talking to someone very dim.

In fairness, he was.

"Why not?"

Mark shrugged.

"I'm strong in dreams," he said. "So how about you try just asking me for whatever it is you want?"

"How do you know that I want something? Maybe I'm just trapping you for the sake of trapping you!"

Mark rolled his eyes.

He'd forgotten about how much of a _brat_ Anti was, when you got down to it.

Sure, Anti tried to be mean and terrifying, but at the end of the day, he was more like a very dangerous toddler than any kind of legitimate threat.

It helped that Anti had the attention span of a squirrel on too much caffeine. 

"So what do you want, Anti?"

"Nothing," Anti snapped.

Mark looked around wearily. 

The beach was empty, apart from the great cliffs rearing up in the distance. 

"Where's Dark?"

"He's busy," Anti said, a little too quickly, and some kind of expression flashed across Anti's face.

_Aha!_

"Are you lonely?" Mark put on his most compassionate voice, coming towards Anti with his hands open.

"Fuck you," Anti spat, and he came at Mark with his hands curled into claws.

Mark had a second pair of arms now, and he grabbed at Anti's wrists before those claws could attempt to disembowel him.

Not that it would have done much, but still.

Regrowing guts is annoying, and takes up more time than it needs to.

"Listen," Mark said, keeping his voice gentle, closing his wings around the two of them, so the endless, starless, vaulting sky was hidden from view, and it was just the feathery closeness of the two of them. "If you want some company, you can ask, but I'm not putting up with you trying to get what you want by being a brat about it. Do you understand?"

Mark could smell Anti's rank breath, and the faintly dusty, bright smell of his own feathers.

Anti glared at Mark, and he squirmed in Mark's grip, as Mark put his other set of hands on Anti's shoulders. 

"I'm not being a brat," Anti whined. "You're just a fuckin' pussy."

"Mhm," Mark said, unimpressed.

He didn't let go of Anti's wrists, though.

There was a split second of panic, as Anti lunged at Mark's face, and Mark almost drew back - he didn't want his lips bitten off.

But then Anti was kissing Mark, and the gaping wound in Anti's throat (which was somehow also a mouth, because of course it was, complete with teeth) was chuckling, as Anti kissed Mark. 

Anti kissed Mark, and Mark kissed him back, his hands cupping Anti's cheeks, then the back of Anti's head, stroking his fingers through Anti's hair, making soothing noises. 

"I hate you," Anti growled out, as he tried to free his hands.

Mark instead changed their positions, and he changed their location.

They were standing under a bridge somewhere; they were on a riverbank, and it was still night. 

Anti was glaring at him, but his lips were swollen with kisses, his eyes luminous in the darkness.

"Fuck me," Anti said, and he was trying to grind his pelvis against Mark's.

"Really?" 

Mark gave Anti a look.

"... please," Anti said, and he looked up at Mark, his expression so piteous that Mark sighed, compassion filling him with its sticky fog.

"Alright," Mark said. "But... on _my_ terms."

"Your terms?"

Anti made a face.

"Take it or leave it," Mark said flatly.

Anti sighed theatrically.

"Fine," he said. "But this is gonna be fuckin' boring."

"Ground rules," Mark said, ignoring Anti's whining. "No bodily harm."

"I can't even bite you?!"

"You can nibble," said Mark. 

"... fine," Anti grumbled, and then he was wriggling his wrists out of Mark's grip, leaning forward and kissing him with his whole mouth.

The scenery changed again, but Mark wasn't paying attention.

He kept all of his focus on Anti - one set of hands in Anti's hair, one set stroking up and down Anti's sides.

Anti's shirt had disappeared at some point, because of course it had, this was the dream lands.

And then Anti was pushing his hands down the front of Mark's loose sweat pants, and he was grabbing Mark's cock and just... squeezing it.

"It's bigger than I thought it would be," Anti said against Mark's lips, and Mark rolled his eyes, but he let Anti's fingers explore along his shaft, as his own hands played with Anti's nipples, twisting them, pulling Anti's hair with his other set of hands.

Anti groaned, and then his knees were getting weak, and the two of them were sitting on a bed of grass.

Anti straddled Mark's lap, and those very sharp teeth were... disconcertingly close to Mark's face, but Anti's thumb was stroking along the slit of his dick, spreading wetness, and Mark moaned, his wings spreading open, almost flapping.

"You look like an overgrown pigeon," Anti growled, glaring up at Mark.

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," Mark said, and he began to kiss along Anti's neck, sweet and gentle, the way that always made Jack weak in the knees.

Anti made an annoyed noise, shoving at Mark's chest.

"You're _tickling_ me," he grumbled. 

"Sorry," said Mark, and he moved his hands down, to squeeze Anti's cock, fondle his balls, run his hands up and down Anti's sides.

Anti was thrashing now, and Mark pulled him closer, letting go of Anti's cock long enough to get Anti's pants off.

Anti's cock was thick and... well, human looking.

Sort of.

It didn't look like Jack's, but Mark had a feeling Anti wasn't always this shape.

Maybe he could do things with it.

But that was a thing to think about another time, because right now Anti was grinding against his ass insistently.

"Put it in," Anti growled. 

"No prep, or lube?"

Mark had both fucked and been fucked enough times to know that it was generally not a good idea to go in without any kind of lubrication.

Then again, if he concentrated hard enough, he could make his cock ooze lubrication, and while that was... kind of disgusting, it did do the job.

Anti sank down onto Mark's cock in one long stretch, and Mark made a strangled noise.

Anti was looking smug, a few inches from Mark's own face.

Mark kissed Anti, his second set of hands going to Anti's hips, his first set cupping Anti's face.

He wrapped his wings around the two of them, enclosing them in the feathery cave, full of their steamy breath and Anti's frenzied heartbeat. 

"No," Anti said harshly, trying to squirm away.

He fell back, and Mark followed him, until he was crouching over Anti, his expression concerned.

"Are you okay?"

"I can't breathe when you do that," Anti said. 

"Do you want me to stop?"

Anti wrapped his legs around Mark's middle, pulling Mark closer, his bony heels digging into Mark's lower back. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Anti snarled, and Mark smiled at Anti in spite of himself.

"Greedy little thing," Mark said affectionately, rolling his hips in such a way as to press down on Anti's prostate.

Anti yowled like a scalded cat, his heels digging in deep enough to bruise, and Mark made a face, using his second set of arms to grab hold of Anti's thighs and force them up and open, Anti's feet kicking uselessly.

"Choke me," Anti demanded, staring up at Mark with his mismatched eyes, his hand working desperately at his own cock, his hips jerking forward to meet Mark's.

"Weren't you just complaining about not being able to breathe a second ago?"

"That's different," Anti said, then, "please?"

His expression was so open, so vulnerable....

Mark wrapped his first set of hands around Anti's throat, and he squeezed.

The mouth at Anti's throat gnashed and groaned, its teeth nipping at Mark's fingers, but Mark ignored them.

Anti was getting tighter, his cock twitching against his belly, and Mark added a third pair of arms, to jerk off Anti, as his own pleasure began to crest.

"Fuck," Mark groaned, and he was staring intently into Anti's eyes, trying to understand... something.

He didn't get Anti, on a fundamental level, and he wanted to.

And then Anti was biting his finger, hard enough that a spurt of blood hit each of them in the face, and Anti was cackling, as Mark's wings flared out, flapping, and Mark was cumming into Anti, his hips stuttering forward, and he was groaning from the pain of it, from the pleasure of his orgasm, the intensity of it making him weak, making the landscape waver, and then his own form was wavering, and Anti's form was wavering, and....

Mark sat up in bed, his cock still pulsing, and he had two hands, and his wings were flaring.

His cock was still spitting out cum, and his finger was bleeding.

... um.

So dreams were a thing now.

Huh. 

That was... neat.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Contact me on Tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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